


Thank You, Doctor

by deltachye



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Romance, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8106673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x zack addy] [spoilers for s3]Loving a genius is hard. It takes some interpretation to get from a 'thank you' to an 'I love you, too'.





	

 

-i-

“Zack, your hair’s _so_ fluffy.”

“I would highly appreciate it if you refrained from stroking my hair, doctor.”

You withdrew your hand sheepishly, a slight pout on your face. The young assistant and your best friend Zack stared at the skull in his hands intently, hardly responding to your touches or words. You glanced to the remains he was turning slowly, examining the smooth mandible with care.

“Are you done with that yet?” You still had yet to complete a structural analysis. You propped your feet up on the stool, your seat nestled carefully between Zack’s various mathematical and anatomical textbooks stacked on his desk. The Addy workstation was eerily quiet; the bustling of the Jeffersonian forensics lab was tucked outside the door, a world away from you and Zack.

“No, I still have to conduct a comparison on the ice pick and screwdriver with this entry hole.”

“Then you won’t mind.” You reached forwards, scrunching your fingers into the thick brown mop he called ‘hair’. He froze for a moment but then disregarded it. You felt around. “Aw, you didn’t even brush it? What do you even do in the morning?”

“I brush my teeth, eat a balanced breakfast, and then perform a rigorous hour-and-thirty minute exercise before work. Can you please pass me the number 7 scalpel?”

You look at your side, and handed him the small tool. Your fingers then returned to his hair, running through it steadily, combing through the tangles. He didn’t seem to even notice at all, instead, examining the dead man’s teeth. You pulled at his bangs, slicking them back. You curled the hair around your fingers, you picked at it, you ruffled it.

After a few moments, he coughed. “Doctor?”

“Hm?”

“It seems that your constant touching of my hair has… caused my intellect and concentration to be compromised.” He shifted as he said this, his thin frame tensing visibly under the familiar blue lab coat.

“What?” you asked with a laugh, continuing to groom with your long fingers. “Speak up, Zack, not all of us speak alien.”

He swallowed. “It seems that I have an erection and would very much like it to not be there any more.”

“Oh.” You dropped your hands sheepishly, heat flooding up to your face. “Sorry? I’ll, um, go.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

 

-ii-

“Zack — oh, excuse me. Dr. Addy!”

You grinned as you saw his new haircut, the buzzed hair was strict and completely aligned to his personality. You laughed a bit, stifling it, before giggling again. He watched you; his arms were hanging stiffly at his sides in the dark tuxedo Angela had bought him.

“It would seem that you are ridiculing me.”

“No! No, Zack, it’s fine.” You managed to pass a snort as a cough. You reached up, running your palm across the top of his head instinctively. It was rough, unlike the soft locks he’d had before, but it was an interesting feeling. You did it again, and he stared at you blankly the entire time.

“Angela told me it would be professional.”

“Oh?”

His blank stare was starting to creep you out. You pulled your hand back slowly, but he made a deliberate grunt that made you freeze. Nervous, you asked, “is everything okay?”

“I… was wondering of _your_ opinion, doctor.”

His hesitation was so unlike him that you waited for some overly complicated explanation, but all that came was more staring. He blinked a few times, too.

“I think it’s… cute?” your voice was raised an octave, and it wasn’t hard to see your anxiety with the question. But he nodded, seeming to be satisfied.

“Cute,” he repeated.

“I guess?”

“Hodgins told me that when women compliment men, in either a way that has condescending or provocative intonation, it’s called,” he stopped to make exaggerated air quotations, his movements shifting your hand on his head without notice that you were still there, “ _flirting._ It supposedly demonstrates attraction. I find that to be strange, because in the Neanderthal society — ”

“Uh, you know what? I’m going to cut you short there. How about you just come over to my place? I’ll make you something that’s not mac and cheese.”

“Oh. All right. I enjoy macaroni and cheese, it’s why Dr. Saroyan calls me ‘Zacakaroni’ — oh, did you not want to hear about the Neanderthal society? Agent Booth did tell me that I sometimes speak about topics that bore other people.”

“Zack? Zack.” You gave him a short pat on the head, pulling back your hand, and then a swift kiss on the nose. “Talk Neanderthal all you want. I’ll listen.”

He stared at you again, before nodding.

“Thank you, doctor.”

 

-iii-

“Iraq.”

You mused while reading the letter, your eyes skimming over the computer generated message. The only important words to you were the ones dictating the date of his departure.

“Yes. The president asked for me specifically.” He tapped on the paper you were reading, making the ink bounce across your eyesight. “Zachary Uriah Addy.”

“I know your name, Zack. I’d be a terrible girlfriend if I didn’t. And don’t worry, I know all fifty of your relative’s names, too.” You tried to cover your clenched jaw with a laugh, but he saw through it immediately.

“I sense discomfort.”

“Yeah, well… ‘discomfort’ is right.” You put the paper down and rubbed your forehead, fingers sliding back to your temples in the hope to push away the throbbing pain behind your eyes. You looked up. “Hodgins’ and Angela’s wedding is coming up, is it not? He’ll be asking you to be best man.”

“I can’t be the best man.” He said it like it was obvious fact, and you were a dumb child. “If I die overseas, he will only remember the day of his amalgamation with Angela as the last day he saw me. I cannot taint it like that.”

“They’re getting married, not being ‘amalgamated’. That makes it sounds like they’re being fused together.” You looked at him sadly, your gaze turning back down to the open letter, which balanced in your lap.

“I haven’t shown anybody else this letter,” he admitted after a short silence.

Your jaw tightened and you frowned. “Why not?”

“I value your opinions. I find that your statements usually turn out to be correct, despite my initial hypothesis of them being completely wrong, and you also blend logic and human morality in a way that I can both understand and learn from. I respect you.”

“Oh. Okay.” You were thrown off by the sudden declaration, to which he only nodded at when he finished. You knew it was as close to a statement of affection you could get. “Um… well, what do you want me to say, Zack?”

“I want you to advise me on my course of actions.” He paused to think. “I don’t want to abandon my post at the Jeffersonian, but I cannot ignore this calling either.” Another pause. “I also do not want to leave you.”

You laughed slightly, the statement making you smile and your heart warm up. “Zack… you don’t have to do anything for _my_ benefit.”

You realized after seconds of abrupt silence that he wouldn’t give you a response, seeing that through the years you’d known him he still had not gotten better at conversation in the slightest — and instead continued on hastily.

“Are you ready to go? It says you’ll be picked up for a preliminary debriefing tomorrow.”

“Yes. I have already packed a small suitcase with my personal belongings and clothing, along with hygienic equipment and tools.”

“Ah.” You nodded with a slight grin, but he could apparently see the distraught etched into your face, and frowned.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no.” Your fake smile dropped. You sighed before folding up his letter and holding it, trying not to draw attention to the shakiness of the paper in your grasp. “I just wish you would’ve told me earlier instead of...” you checked the golden parchment again, “two days before.”

“I’m telling you now.”

You stifled a frown, knowing that even the slightest negative emotion towards your emotionally stunted partner would haunt him for weeks.

“You should go.” You handed him the letter, pretending not to notice your hands shaking, and crossed your legs casually.

He looked puzzled as he took the page from you. “Why?”

“You want to, obviously.” You bit your lip to keep it from trembling and looked away.

“You _don’t_ want me to.”

“Well, it’s _dangerous_.” You swallowed. “It doesn’t tell you what your discharge date is, either.”

“But… you’re giving me permission?” He still seemed confused with the conflict in your tone and facial expression. But he tucked the letter into his briefcase, and you knew his decision was made.

“You don’t need permission to do what you want, Zack.” You gave another sigh, the warm air deflating you. You smiled weakly in order to keep him from worrying, but his eyes were already distant, far from you. “I’ll miss you.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

 

-iv-

“Zack?”

Your chair slammed backwards to the wall as you stood abruptly, your heart jittery when you saw the familiar face enter your workstation. You nearly dropped the femur you were examining, your eyes tearing up with relief and joy. “Zack!”

“Yes, it is I.” He looked bewildered as you ran towards him. “I don’t seem to resemble anybody else, so I don’t get your confusion — oh. Hello, doctor.”

He looked down at you as you hugged him tightly, pressing him close to your chest. You’d missed him a lot more than you’d like to admit.

“How was Iraq? How are _you_? Are you okay?” a stream of questions flooded from you as you patted over his body, checking for breaks or bruises. “Why are you back so early?”

“It was hot, sandy, and sunny. I’m okay. I’m fine.” He answered in a monotonous questionnaire voice, shifting uncomfortably as you poked and prodded his ribs and vertebrae. “I failed to assimilate and was detrimental to military operations.”

“Oh, that’s terrible. At least you’re unharmed! That’s a pretty nasty burn you have, though,” you said, sucking your teeth with concern when you noticed the papery skin on his neck. You placed your cool hand on it, and he flinched, swallowing, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Let me get you some aloe essence and cream.”

“Before you do,” he said, rummaging in his bag without looking down. You realized it was to not disturb you, your hand still pressed to his skin, so you shoved it into your pockets. He brought out a small pendant, wrapped in newspaper, and gave it to you.

“What’s this?” you asked with the awe and curiosity of a five year old, turning the shiny metal in your palm with care. It was a small and round charm, an old thing with its faces hardly discernible, save for the scraggly heart shape carved deep into the metal.

“The army psychiatrist gave it to me as a goodbye present. She told me to give it to the person I cared about the most. Although I thought I would have given it to my mother, I decided against it.” He looked at your hands, staring at the pendant as if he might snatch it back.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked, your gaze shooting back up to him. Your admiration swelled and you resisted the urge to hug him again, but played the emotions off. You tried to mask your disappointment and held the chain back out. “Here, you can give it to your mother if you’d like.”

“No,” he said quickly, before frowning at his own hurried statement. He looked concerned, his brow furrowing the way it did when he was concentrating. “Wait, why _did_ I give it to you?”

You laughed. “It’s okay Zack, you don’t have to find the answer to that. I really appreciate it, and I’m sure your mother won’t mind.” You collected the long, fluid chain into your fist and gave him another hug, slow and deliberate. “I’ll cherish it.”

“Okay. Thank you, doctor.”

 

-v-

You inhaled deeply as you ran your gloved hand across the bone, your fingers dipping into the grooves.

“This guy… he tore off the flesh with his own teeth. He gave no care.” You shuddered. “It must be really hard to have to chew through the tendon… ugh. What a monster.”

Zack ignored your ramblings, choosing not to indulge in your rhetorical after learning that one was not supposed to answer rhetorical questions. He lifted a glass vial to the light, tapping it gently.

“Did you complete the fractural work-up?”

You sighed. “Not yet.”

He looked at you sharply. “You were given approximately eleven minutes to complete that task. Somebody of your skill should have completed it in two.”

“I know, I’m just…” you shook your head, placing the radius back onto the table. “I’m a bit shaken by this one, Zack.”

“The Gormogon case is like any other.”

“No, this one’s… I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about it.”

“You say you have bad feelings about every other case as well.”

You looked up at him, his hurried speech making you suspicious. You made eye contact, and he immediately looked back at the vial, its contents turning green from the previously clear chemical.

“I guess. I… I just know something bad is bound to happen from this. To Gormogon and his assistant. To us.”

“…can you please conduct the analysis soon? I need the bones.”

His dismissal of your worry hurt you. You shuffled over to where he was standing; your shoulders slouched over. He glanced at you before ignoring you again, placing the vial back into its holder. He reached for another one before you wrapped your arms around his lanky body. He radiated warmth, and a sort of comfort that hugging a soft pillow would give. His actions stopped when you pressed your face into his lab coat.

“I don’t feel safe,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

It took him a minute to work up a reply. “You should. Many trustworthy guards surround the Jeffersonian. Not to mention that Agent Booth is here at nearly all times.” He made no move to push you away or bring you closer, and instead stood in the same position he did, staring at the vial he meant to pick up. He looked down at you. “You… are surrounded by safety.”

You looked up, your hold on him relaxing. “Really?”

“Yes.”

You gave a quick nod before backing away, swiping at your eyes with your wrists. “Right. Sorry. Um, I’ll do the analysis right away.” You turned back to the bone, and Zack watched you, instead of immediately picking up the next vial, and frowned.

“…thank you, doctor.”

 

-vi-

“Zack!”

Your scream rung out, piercing through the blaring alarms. You pushed aside the meandering spectators and guards, tripping on your own shoes to get to him. He lay on the stretcher, his eyes turned to the sky, brown irises calmly moving side to side as if reading an intriguing book. He looked at you.

“Doctor.”

“What the hell? What happened? I heard the alarm and — oh my god, your hands…” your shrill died away when you saw the clubs, the white bandages already seeping through with fiery red blood.

“The monomer was tainted. It… exploded.”

“The mono… Hodgins. Did he do this? God, I should’ve…!” your broken whisper escalated to a furious growl, and you placed a hand on his arm, careful not to disturb the wounded areas.

“No. No. It was not him. He didn’t do this.” He raised himself up, his tone panicky for the first time in years, before wincing and collapsing back into the stretcher.

“Th-then… Gormogon? No. Oh my god, he’s inside the Jeffersonian. He has to be. Oh my…” You let go to pace, clutching strands of your hair with fear. It made sense now.

“There is no complete evidence, but yes, I would angle my suspicions towards Gormogon.”

Before you could reply, a hasty cough drew your attention away.

“Ma’am, we’d like to move Dr. Addy to the hospital now.”

You looked up heatedly to the EMT, who had been waiting for you to finish the entire time. He gestured to the exit. You shifted your weight before nodding, returning to Zack’s side.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Sorry. Give me a sec.” You looked down at Zack, who had been patiently quiet. You swallowed, a thick lump formed in your throat, and smoothed the hair from his forehead back. It was slicked to the pasty skin with a shiny layer of cool sweat. “Okay. Okay. Zack, I’ll be at the hospital, okay?” You controlled your tone of voice, transforming your fear and panic to what you hoped was a soothing murmur.

“No. You still have to conduct further analysis on the bones, and — ”

You shook your head rapidly. “No, Zack, you’re more important than that. I’ll _be_ at the hospital.” You gave him a kiss, on his pale lips, before being wrenched back by an impatient guard. You yelped, watching helplessly as Zack was rolled away, unable to hear the pained statement he muttered.

“…thank you, doctor.”

 

-vii-

“Zack.”

You twiddled with your fingers, before realizing that he was watching you do so with the knowledge of not ever being able to utilize his own hands, so you stopped.

“…hello. I didn’t think you’d visit me when Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth told you what I had… done.”

You looked at him sadly, his dark brown eyes wide and still innocent. Innocence. You suddenly remembered the first kiss he’d given you, clumsy and inexperienced, and had to look away. You inhaled shakily.

“Yeah. I don’t usually like people who kill other people.”

He flinched at your bitterness, the most emotion you’d received from him in months. His eyes, when they reopened, were glazed over with moisture.

“I feel regret. Perhaps shame. But I was merely wrong, not guilty.”

You glanced at him sharply. “What?”

“I was wrong, not guilty.”

You ground your teeth together, fury suddenly bubbling over in your stomach. This was the boy, _man_ you had loved wholly — the awkwardness, the brilliance, the way he had devoted himself to you. He was the man who sat still when you played with his hair; he was the man who curled his own fingers into your hair at nights; he was the man you would go to hell and back for.

And he wouldn’t take his damn responsibility.

“You had people that loved you. Angela, Hodgins, Dr. Saroyan, Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth, Dr. Sweets even… and me. Why didn’t you just…”

He cut you off. “I don’t need you to recite the names of my friends. I am fully aware of their presence.”

Your lower lip quivered. Hollowly, you repeated, “ _friends_?”

“Yes. Oh, you’re offended.”

You glared at him.

“I realize your affections for me. I realize that they are romantically intended. But I also realize that your affections and my own developing emotions cloud my logic. I compartmentalize, like a true scientist.” He gave you a pointed look. “You love me. You distract me. As did they. So I merely put them away.”

“So. You never loved _me_.” You smiled to yourself bitterly, your lips curling up like a thin, dried piece of wood in the harsh sun. You got up abruptly to leave, throwing your bag strap over your shoulder before he said it quietly.

“I do.”

You looked at him, and tried to scrutinize his expression like you did with the bones. You searched for cracks and the shape of the fractures, you utilized your years of study to look for _anything_. You saw nothing.

“I’m unfamiliar with the concept of love. But I believe in hypotheses and theories and repeated tests — and I think that you were the one most adept at teaching me. You gave me variables, you gave me a theory, and you gave me — ”

“Results. The final step of a empirical, scientific experiment is collecting results.”

He nodded.

“I found them to be quite determinate. I can say with full certainty, at least in the capacity that a human can in this age, that…” he paused, before continuing as casually as he would recite the periodic table of elements. “Yes, I love you.”

Your jaw clenched. You could’ve left, but you sat down again, tentatively, before giving an accidental sob. You already felt yourself crying, the hot tears already dribbling down your cheek and the inner side of your nose, but you sat in place. You covered your mouth with your hands, breathing shakily.

“I’m sorry. I have caused you pain.”

You ran a hand through the light hair that’d grown back, keeping it in place. The soft down warmed your cold fingers.

“The others are in pain, too, Zack. Your victim. His family…”

He blinked. “I am more concerned with your wellbeing than the others.” He glanced down, and then back at you, holding his gaze to yours.

“…thanks, Zack,” you whispered, closing your eyes. Your fingers clenched, into the softness of his hair.

“You don’t forgive me.”

“No,” you said after some thought, shaking your head. You knew you wouldn’t. He looked down, with disappointment, but acceptance. His shoulders slumped more than they already were. You took a deep breath in, and suddenly, your voice was gentle. “Zack, look at me.”

He did so.

“I'll never forgive you. Ever. But I’m staying by your side.”

It took a moment before he closed his eyes and nodded. “Thank you, doctor.”

 

-vii-

“And our child — ”

“Yes, Zack,” you said impatiently, turning your paper cup of fruit juice. You reached up and pulled at the silver chain, fingering the pendant, which was what you did when agitated. “I told you, he’s healthy. I did the ultrasound this morning.”

He nodded. “And you’re sure you — ”

“Yes, Zack, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” He nodded, stiffly, so you still weren’t sure if he was satisfied or not.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, realizing your annoyed tone had probably hurt him. He shrugged.

"I've regained 70% of my functionality. My hands do not hurt as much with careful consumption of non-narcotic painkillers. It's not too bad. Actually, kind of impressive.”

You sighed, though it was amused. Same, same Zack. “I meant mentally.”

“Oh.” He paused, calculating his emotional stability, staring at you dead-eyed the entire time. You had gotten used to it — in fact, it had gotten endearing. You took the time to examine his wavy hair that'd grown back — perhaps you should bring him a brush. He then nodded once, bringing your attention back to his dark but warming eyes. “Yes, I suppose I’m okay.”

“Just okay?” you asked, pressing for more.

“Well, I can't be ‘more than okay’ without first having to leave this facility to be with you. Although your presence does raise my… mediocre ‘okay-ness’ levels by about 92% from 0.”

“Where’s the other 8%?” you asked, feigning offense. He blinked.

“The non-narcotic painkillers.”

You grinned to yourself at the blunt straightforwardness. Being in love with a genius required reading into the lines in order to find the ambiguous love, but this was easy enough to interpret.

Your expression faded and fell when you saw him looking at your pendant. You knew why he was here — his fear of prison overcame his disdain for the 'looney bin' — but he was in a bad situation either way. You knew he was depressed from not being able to work. You knew he couldn't admit his innocence in order to stay out of harm's way. You desperately missed him, too. It was all you could do to sign him out for an hour a year, since he'd vowed not to escape the facility premises again. When he'd told you the truth that day, you'd cried. But then the decision was made and it happened. Slowly, softly. Awkward, a bit confusing, but lovingly all the same. You pressed your hands into your stomach, where the young child grew, and sighed. All you could do now was love him the same.

"You know I _do_ forgive you, right?"

He looked up from the equation you'd brought him, startled. He placed the pencil down slowly.

"Yes, you've told me that already." His eyes flicked towards the security door, and you knew he was wary of any listeners.

"I just... yeah. You should know."

Before you could say anything else, your phone chimed in your pocket. Thankful, you clawed it out and checked it.

“Oh, I have to go. Booth and Brennan brought back a case.” You checked the small device, the text message flashing across the screen. You looked at Zack, placing your hand on top of his, still gloved in a soft and dark material. You patted it gently, squeezing. “I’ll be back.”

“I would hope so.”

You smiled again before leaning across the table, kissing him briefly. He still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of ‘kissing back’, but he tried, and it was enough. You ran a hand through his messy, fluffy hair affectionately, before leaning away and pushing in your chair.

“Some documents still have to be signed. I’ll bring them back next time. Oh, and that experimental physics book you wanted, it should be coming in on Thursday… I have some bloodwork to do on Friday so I’ll be late then. Okay? Bye.” You took out your card, about to swipe it at the door before he abruptly said 'wait!'. He rose, pulling the looseleaf paper you'd given him, returning it back to you. Your brow furrowed with curiosity to how he'd solved it so fast, but you checked it.

A hastily scrawled matrix, nearly unreadable to you was drawn across the page. You followed the Greek letters and math down to the end, where it said, 'Answer: I love you'.

You smiled. He'd gotten it right. You then left, but first, he muttered,

"Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> Elsewhere: http://deltachye.tumblr.com/post/145783497251/thank-you-doctor-t-spoilers-reader-x-zack


End file.
